Missed Call
by A lost lily
Summary: One wild night leads Dean Winchester to ignore a call from his brother with disastrous implications. Limp!Sam Angst!Dean
1. Missed Call

Sam shivered in the cold, shuffling from foot to foot. Damn Dean and his strange quest to try to get laid in every new town they came to. He was supposed to be picked up an hour ago when the library closed, and yet here he was, shivering, cursing, and wondering just how long it would be before Dean came. He had left after dinner that night with a blonde, Leyla or Leia or some ultra-feminine name that made Dean's head spin, so there was really no telling when his brother would appear.

Deciding that the three mile walk to the motel was better than hanging around the deserted library, Sam grudgingly started to move. He trudged through the snow, grumbling to himself about the frigid northern weather, and whipped out his phone. Surprise surprise, Dean still hadn't called. Pushing the button to call his brother, Sam started to walk quicker. The first flakes of a fresh wave of snow were starting to fall.

"Hey Dean," Of course his brother wouldn't answer, so now he was talking to his voice mail. It had been a less than enchanting experience to talk to their father's voicemail for the months so long ago when he had been missing, and now it was even less enticing. Sam even thought that his voice sounded exasperated, and much the better. Dean deserved to know how pissed he was about this. "The library has been closed for hours…" Well, more accurately ONE hour, but Sam's younger brother whining tendencies tended to come out when he was angry. "Where are you?"

He was quiet on the line for a moment as he noticed a man approaching. It was too dark for him to see the demon-dark eyes of the homeless man, but there was something about him that made Sam uneasy.

"Got any change, kid?" The man asked, his face mostly obscured by his thick dark beard and the cap pulled low over his face. Though Sam normally wasn't one to hand over their cash (as it was far more hard to replenish than the credit cards that kept coming on a regular basis, he didn't want to argue with this particular man, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crinkled one, which was the only small bill he had at the moment. "That all ya got? Your Mama really should have taught you to be a bit more generous with strangers, boy…"

Sam gasped as the stranger looked up at him, his dark eyes evident for the first time, and groped blindly in his pocket for the flask of holy water, but it was too late. One moment of careless grumbling on the phone to his brother was going to cost him dearly now.

--

Dean chuckled, nuzzling first closer to the brunette, then the blonde. Twins. Leia and Leyla, or something like that. As far as Dean was concerned, the names were so closely related to 'laid' that it didn't matter anyway. Yes, good old Sammy didn't know what he was missing out on, cooped up in that dusty old library all night. Dean might have been generous enough to give Sam one of the twins, had his brother been thinking like any other red-blooded male and not some scholastic freak.

"Want more, naughty boy?" Dean practically beamed at the blonde and nodded enthusiastically. He rolled back over onto her, kissing and nipping at her soft tan skin.

"What's this?" The brunette held up his ringing phone, a look of almost childlike wonder on her face. "Sammy's calling? Why didn't you bring him to play?" God love the twins, Dean thought, it seemed the blonde was actually somehow the more intelligent of the two. Not that Dean was complaining—but it was still odd. He winced at her too chipper voice. "You have one new voicemail."

Flashing her a devilish grin, he ignored her and continued kissing her sister. Sammy could wait a bit, right now Dean was hardly in the mood to play chauffer, and it wouldn't hurt Sam to wait at the library for a bit. Interested by his phone, and pouting that she was not the one getting kissed, the brunette started to play with it, giggling as she looked through his contacts and saw so many women's names there, and she was even brazen enough to start listening to his voicemail.

"Dean," She practically squealed as she heard Sam's voice on the message. "Your brother sounds hoooot," Dean waved her away and started ravishing the blonde's neck more thoroughly. He wasn't watching the brunette twin as her eyes went wide when she heard the other voice, but when she heard the sounds of the scuffle and let out a surprised yelp, Dean's attention was on her fairly quickly.

"What is it?" he asked, sitting up away from the now pouting blonde to study the dark headed girl. She looked shaken to the core, and didn't answer. Instead she pushed the phone to him.

"_Hey Dean, the library has been closed for hours…Where are you?_" Dean rolled his eyes at the pissed off tone to Sammy's voice. This was going to be a fun night, trying to explain to his nose-stuck-in-the-books brother why a date with hot twins totally beat playing taxi cab with his brother. He expected to hear Sam go on, but there was silence for a moment and then an unfamiliar voice.

"_Got any change kid_?" Dean frowned, not liking that some bum was asking Sam for change when he was out alone after dark. "_That all ya got? Your Mama really should have taught you to be a bit more generous with strangers, boy_." Something in Dean snapped, panicking already, and he was out of bed in a bolt, the phone still pressed to his ear as he hastily put on his clothing. He froze when he heard the sound of the scuffle and Sam's cry of pain, and then the message was dead.

You have no new messages. First skipped message…

Dean slammed the phone shut, ramming his feet down into his shoes. He was furious at himself, for forgetting to pick Sam up, for ignoring his call. God knew where his kid brother was, what had happened, and if he didn't find him he'd never forgive himself.

No.

No, he couldn't think like that. He had to find him, there was no other acceptable alternative.

"Aren't you going to play?" The blonde pouted up at him prettily, making a stark contrast to her still shaken sister. "We want you to stay and play."

"Not now." Dean said briskly, grabbing his keys out of his pocket and heading to the door. Dean might think with his lower brain 90 percent of the time, but when his brother was in danger he didn't think at all. He reacted. He found Sam and fixed his problems and then and only then did he get to be carefree Dean again. Tonight would be no different. His fists clenched as he slid the key into the ignition and fired the Impala to life. He was going to find that bastard who had hurt his brother and he would pay.

Speeding his car down the highway to the library, Dean tried to call Sam, and cursed vehemently when the endless ringing led straight to voicemail.

Payback was a bitch.


	2. Voicemail

WOW. I can't thank you enough for all of your kind reviews. My schedule is crazy with full time work and full time school, and yet because of you all and your kind words I made the time to continue. THANK YOU.

--

_"Hi, this is Sam. I'm not here right now but if you leave me a message I'll get back to you as soon as I can."_

Dean all but growled. Normally he thought that Sam's voicemail was annoyingly bland, but now it was down right infuriating. What the hell was going on?

"Sammy, where in God's name are you? I've driven from the library to the hotel three times and you're nowhere to be found. After that message you left me, I'm more than a little worried about what mess little Samantha has gotten herself into this time." The teasing words that Dean had tried for fell flat, because he wasn't in the mood to joke right now, or to do anything but find Sammy. "Listen, I know you're probably pissed at me about earlier, and I get it, that's fine, but I swear, Samuel Winchester, if you are pulling some sort of prank, I'll kill you myself. Just…call me, alright?"

Dean slammed the phone shut, then whipped the Impala into a space in the library's parking lot. As driving had done no good, and leaving no less than ten messages on his brother's voicemail had done no good, he was going to have to travel on foot. Perhaps if he retraced Sam's steps he'd find some sort of clue as to where his brother had gone. He didn't even bother to lock up his 'baby,' because looking for his kid brother was far more important to him now than any car, even THE car.

"Sammy!" He called, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Fuck it's cold." A sobering thought came to him just then—if he was cold after just stepping out of his warm car, how had Sam felt waiting and then walking in this freaking tundra? Feeling like a candidate for world's worst brother, he worked his way through the snow. At first he saw nothing, but then he all but stumbled over a dirty, ragged flannel shirt, the type that you might expect some sort of broke bum to wear, half hidden in the snow. Even before he had fully picked it up he could smell the stench of sulfur radiating from it. "Son of a bitch…" Hidden under the flannel shirt was a patch of red snow, and no doubt there was more under the thick snow on either side of where the shirt had been. His Sammy was hurt, bleeding somewhere with a fucking demon as his kidnapper, and Dean had no idea where to even begin. "Saaaaammy!" His cry was sheer anguish. He didn't care if he woke someone, he didn't care that his brother likely wasn't anywhere near enough to hear him. It wasn't a cry that expected a response, instead it was a release of all of the guilt and pain and sheer terror that he had for his brother.

Hands shaking, Dean pulled out his phone again, dialing the familiar number. "Hi, Bobby, I need your help."

--

What was it, Bobby Singer wondered, about the Winchester boys and their ability to find trouble. You couldn't leave them alone for an afternoon without one of them finding some way to risk his neck, or both. Sam could even manage to get himself kidnapped on the way back from the library, and that took some talent.

He sighed, turning up the radio on his truck as he raced closer to the town two states over where Dean was. He had left the boy with explicit instructions to wait for him at the hotel, though no doubt the oldest Winchester would ignore them entirely and keep poking his head around until he got himself tied up in the trouble as well. Why did the boys never listen to him? Obviously John had never taught them to do things the normal way. Normal children went to school, and to camp on summer vacation. Normal kids didn't go looking for demons, they ran away from the things that go bump in the night. Normal kids were not what John raised his sons to be, and though it hurt like hell sometimes, Bobby loved the Winchester boys as his own sons, just as they were.

As he got closer to Dean's location, the snow got thicker and thicker, making it fairly treacherous to drive through in places. Unphased, he pulled out his phone, calling Sam's number. He knew that it wouldn't do any good, that whoever had taken Sam wouldn't be foolish enough to let him hold his phone and chat, but there was something to be said for just trying, because right now all that he could do was push harder on the gas pedal and keep trying to reach Sam. Poor kid was likely going to have a million frantic voicemails on his phone—if he was alive to care about such things. He'd never admit it to Dean, but he worried that one day the brother's luck would run out. Something was bound to happen that all the trying in the world couldn't fix someday. He could only pray this wasn't the day.

He coughed, blinking away the suspicious wetness in his eyes, and then started talking to the voicemail. "Sam, it's me…."

--

"Cold…" The word was moaned before Sam was even really awake enough to realize that he was speaking, and evidentially it amused his kidnapper.

"Rise and shine, Sammy boy, rise and shine."

Sam moaned, trying to stand but the ropes tying him to the chair prevented much movement. Opening his eyes a slit, he looked at the man. In the scant light of the small shed they were in he looked even more menacing, and his dark eyes looked even more dead. The demon was playing with his phone, chuckling darkly every so often.

"You really have to listen to this one…" he said, putting the phone on speaker as he pressed the voicemail button. "It's not as touching as the one where your brother cried like a little girl, but close." Sam swallowed deeply. He knew that Dean hadn't cried on the phone, his brother was far too busy being macho to do that, but he was likely worried. He was about to say something when the message began to play.

"_Sam, it's me_…" Sam swallowed the lump in his throat as he heard Bobby's voice. God this was bad if Dean had called in Bobby. "_Where the hell are you, you idjet? Your brother's a basket case looking for you. I know you're not bull headed enough to try to do something like this as a prank, but I need you to give us some sort of sign, Sam. You have to find a way to leave us something to go on._" Sam shuddered when he heard Bobby sigh, knowing how deeply this was affecting him and no doubt Dean. "I_ know you probably won't even get to hear this, but there's always a chance…take care of yourself, boy. I'll see you soon_."

"Ever the optimist." Sam jumped at the demon's unexpected voice, as he had almost forgotten he wasn't alone when he heard Bobby's voice. "He thinks he'll be getting you back, isn't that sweet? I love it how old men can be so hopeful at times, almost gives you a bit of hope for things doesn't it?" Though he tried to scoot the chair back as the demon approached, there was little he could do, and the way that he was fidgeting and trying to move upset the balance of the cheap, flimsy thing and a moment later he was laying gasping on his back, with all of his weight and the damned chair resting on one of his bound hands. It hurt, and the damned black eyed creature laughed. "But he won't be getting you back, Sam, nor will Dean…not in one piece anyway."

Bored with his sick games for the time being, the demon flipped out the light in the small metal shed and walked out the door. He had big plans for Sam Winchester, big plans indeed, but first he intended to treat his human body to a warm night's sleep and a mug of warm cocoa. It was damned cold in that shed after all, and though he was immune to human sicknesses and discomfort, that wasn't to say that he didn't enjoy human luxuries from time to time. Yes, this was going to be a very rewarding experience.

Walking to the small house and stepping over the now deceased human residents with as little care as one would use to step over a squashed insect, he pulled out Sam's phone, scrolling down the contact list until he found Dean's number. It rang only once before a very nervous man answered.

"Sammy? Sam?" The demon listened as the young man's voice grew more tense, pleading, then treatening and then with a pleased laugh he closed the phone.

This was going to be even more rewarding than he thought.


	3. Free Nights

I just want to say first, thank you all for your generous reviews! I think I might have missed replying to some of you, so if I have, I'll say it here—THANKS AGAIN. Also, sorry this chapter took me a bit longer to get out, my normal summer allergies are kicking my butt this year. Now, on with the show and kicking Sam's butt :p

--

"Go to sleep son,"

Dean blinked, somewhat startled by Bobby's voice. It was 4 am, and after a thorough search of the area Bobby had finally convinced him that they had to go back to the motel, recharge their batteries a bit so to speak.

_You'll be no help to your fool brother if you're falling over with exhaustion yourself _Bobby had said, and though Dean knew that he was right, the act of closing his eyes, of convincing himself to relax, was damned near impossible. The most he had been able to do was eat one of the greasy cheeseburgers Bobby had gotten for them from the fast food chain and wait on exhaustion to make it impossible for him not to sleep. For Christ's sake, Sammy was out there somewhere, and they didn't have the first clue as to where to begin, and Bobby expected for him to do normal things like eating and sleeping.

There was a soft buzzing sound, and Dean's eyes darted to his phone, expecting to see it vibrating on the countertop with Sam's number displayed in the caller ID. A half dozen silent or laughing calls later and they still didn't even know where to begin, and it was getting on Dean's last nerve. Mercifully, however, the noise was Bobby's phone, and as the older man talked with Ellen (who, judging by Bobby's end of the conversation, had no more information than they did) Dean tried to come up with some sort of game plan.

He might not be one for chick flick moments, but in times like these it was hard not to be sentimental. He had nowhere to begin, no leads, little chance of finding one in the light of day as Bobby kept promising him they would, so instead he remembered. He thought about Sam, the good, the bad, how he could be a pain in the ass one moment and the thing he was most proud of the next. Dean thought about how odd it had felt to realize one day that Sam was taller than he was, how startling it was to be the 'little' brother in one aspect for once until he found his stride and started teasing Sammy for being a giant freak instead of a midget. He thought about how it had felt to have his brother with him in the 

Impala for the first hunt after he went to Stanford but before Jessica died, he thought about how much it had hurt to see his brother drive off to college in that damned rented car, and he tried in vain to remember the last thing he said to Sam. Somehow it as incredibly important right now that he remember, as though they would be the last words he ever got to say to his brother, his epitaph. Likely he had smarted some dumbass thing off about Sam being a nerd who couldn't get laid, or perhaps he had teasingly went on about the twin's assets, whatever he had said it now seemed so inadequate. Dean Winchester wasn't in the habit of doing normal things, wasn't the sort of man who could say 'I love you' or 'I'm proud to call you brother' but now, with Sam gone and with things looking as though they couldn't get much worse, he wished that he was, that he could just tell Sam that he was more than just a brother now, he was a friend, and with the exception of close friends like Bobby and Ellen, the only family he had.

Sam was all he had, and now he was gone.

With that terrifying thought, his phone began to ring. Seeing Sam's number on the caller ID he swore, knowing that it wouldn't be his brother's voice on the other line.

--

"What the fuck do you want?"

The demon chuckled, clearly amused at Dean Winchester's less than pleased tone. His laughter only served to agitate the older brother more, and the demon chuckled louder when several moments of thick, vehement cursing followed.

"Are you finished?"

There was a moment of stunned silence on the line—clearly Dean wasn't expecting Sam's captor to actually converse with him. "Yes." He answered briskly. "Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Tell me what you want in exchange for Sam."

The demon laughed harder, opening the metal door to the shed where he had left Sam and turning on the light. While he had been gone the younger Winchester had gotten himself into a bit of trouble, trying so hard to fidget out of his bindings that now he was laying on his side, most of his weight resting on one arm that was bent at a rather uncomfortable angle. Stupid child, had he only sat still—

"I'm not in the mood to make deals," The demon said almost apologetically, "I just thought that you might want to hear something, something that I find very, very amusing."

Unexpectedly he stuck the phone to Sam's ear, allowing the young man to cradle it between his head and shoulder. It took the boy a few moments to realize that by some extreme sort of grace or torture, he was getting to talk to his brother.

"Dean?"

"Sammy?" Sam winced at the tone of his brother's voice. He sounded anxious and sad and completely terrified all at once. "Sammy, where are you?"

For once Sam felt a sense of comfort in the name that he so often rebelled against. 'Sammy' might be the name of a chubby twelve year old, but it was also the name of a little brother who knew that his big brother would always take care of him, and he needed that right now more than he knew how to express. "I don't know." He answered miserably. "There's just a shed somewhere and it's cold and pretty dark and—NO!"

He forgot to speak, forgot to breathe, as he noticed the demon coming closer to him with a knife. He cursed himself for what had to be the millionth time for turning the chair he was tied to over, for landing on and breaking his right arm. He was all but helpless now with his legs tied to the chair's legs, he couldn't even kick at the demon as he got closer.

"SAM!" It took Sam a moment to remember that Dean was still on the line, that he was waiting for a response and had been trying to talk to him. "SAMMY?"

"Sorry, Dean, I'm still here, but he's got a knife and AAAARGH!"

The demon drove the knife into Sam's side between two of his ribs, jerking it first to the left and then to the right before he snatched the phone away from the bleeding boy. "Wasn't that fun?" he asked, the sound of laughter still in his voice.

"You son of a bitch…." Just as before, Dean's fury only served to entertain the demon, and he was laughing again heartily. "You fucking son of a bitch, when I get my hands on you…"

"Let's play a game." The demon said merrily. "You'll try to come and find me and I'll try to carve a pretty picture into your brother and we'll see who wins first." Sam moaned, the noise loud enough to carry over the phone, and for a moment Dean was too frightened to speak. That didn't stop the demon from pressing on. "You see, Dean Winchester, just because you send someone back to hell doesn't mean that they will stay, and every action has a consequence."

He smirked, looking down at the bleeding form on the floor. "Fortunately for you, you don't always have to pay for your mistakes, sometimes it's the ones near you who pay for them. Do you remember me? You sent me back to hell with your dear old Dad back when Sammy here was just a clean cut college boy. I asked you not to, and yet you both acted without the least bit of remorse, you got his book like a good little soldier and he let you read the exorcism. Tell me, Dean, if fair's fair, shouldn't I send your brother to hell? An eye for an eye and all of that human nonsense." He paused over Sam's still body, kicking him hard in the stomach. Though he was disappointed that all that the action earned was a low moan, he could tell by the choked sound that Dean made that the kick had hurt the one he had intended for it to hurt all along.

"I'm waiting for you, Dean." Turning off the light again, the demon closed the door to the shed. He didn't care that there was nearly a foot of snow on the ground, or that the metal shed was freezing. He didn't care about the blood Sam Winchester was losing, or about the fact that he had had nothing to eat or drink in far too long.

He didn't even care about the bloody footprints in the snow he was likely leaving behind.

No, all that he cared about was the fact that Dean Winchester was suffering right now more than it should be possible for humans to suffer. Grinning like a fool, he went back into the warmth of the house.

--

The noise the Dean made when he got off the phone was like that of a wounded animal, Bobby thought. One moment he was listening silently to the phone, eyes wide and face white as a sheet, and the next he was making noises that cut Bobby to the core and retching up his dinner into the trashcan.

"What did he say?" The older hunter asked gruffly, not wanting to push things or make this harder on Dean but knowing that they needed to be on the same page here. There was silence for a moment as Dean slowly put the wastebasket down and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. The words the boy would say next shocked him.

"It's my fault, Bobby, mine and Dad's. Something we sent to hell while Sam was at college is back again, and it's…it's hurting Sam to hurt me."

_How the hell did this damned creature get out of hell to begin with?_ Bobby wondered, his fists clenching.

"Alright, son, slow it down, let's go over the details." Getting up from his chair, Bobby went to the motel's kitchenette and put on a pot of coffee. Somehow they had to figure out which demon this was, decide where it had taken Sam, and find a way to send it back to hell once and for all. Pouring each of them a generous mug, and adding a liberal amount of whiskey from a flask, Bobby settled down in a chair next to Dean and prepared for the worst.

It was going to be a long night.


	4. No Long Distance

Once again, thank you all for your very kind reviews. Also, just so you know, this story should be 6 chapters long. This chapter is a bit short, but next chapter is longer and then the 6th chapter will likely be somewhere in the middle. I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine, hope you enjoy!

--

The table was strewn with paper, and while it might look like a mess to some, Dean and Bobby knew exactly what each bit of brightly colored paper attached to the map meant. They were color coded on likeliness to be the kidnapper, and attached to the general area of the United States that the vanquished demon had been plaguing, and even though the clutter represented hours and hours of hard work, to Dean it looked pointless. They had information going back a decade, and yet they were no closer to finding Sam. They were still stuck here in the same hotel room while his brother was freezing his ass off in some shed.

Sighing heavily, Dean rose, going to the window. It was the middle of the afternoon by now, but a fresh wave of snow had prevented the sun from giving off any heat to the town. It looked like a tundra out there with kids playing in the snow and gleefully proclaiming their thanks to the weather for getting them out of school for the day. If Sam were with him he'd be tempted to take a snowball and hurl it at his brother, just to see that shocked look on his face before surprise melted into amusement and there was a snowball fight to rival the ones they had when they were kids. Dean loved those fights. He had to find a cheap way to entertain his brother until John returned, but somehow they never seemed like something that was just something to keep Sammy occupied, somehow they took his own mind off of things for awhile. Hearing Sam laugh could do that, make all the trouble go away and leave him feeling like a kid himself.

"What about this one?"

Dean jumped as Bobby's voice distracted him from his musings. "Hmm?"

"This one," Bobby Singer's voice sounded more patient, almost paternal as he waited on Dean to shuffle closer. The kid (because Dean and Sam would always be kids to Bobby, and the closest thing he'd ever have to children) looked so damned tired, and not just the kind that meant that he hadn't slept either. Hearing things the way Dean had, knowing his brother was suffering—well Bobby knew that that took more of a toll on a person than anything.

"What about it?" Dean sat down next to the map, looking skeptically down at the low level green Post-It Bobby was pointing to. He could remember the hunt, it had been an average, run of the mill one that he and his father had taken on only weeks after Sam left for school. They were both still reeling over his loss but afraid to say anything to even one another.

"It's close," Bobby began, rubbing at his scruffy face as he tried to put the facts together. "You said you remembered giving the exorcism on the demon yourself, and it as just a demon, not some other paranormal nutcase. The house where the dad you did the exorcism on is just down the road."

"It's a starting point," Dean said apprehensively, unable to believe that Sam could be so close. Something was going to go wrong, he could feel it. This felt too easy.

_Maybe getting Sam back will be the easy part, and getting him back in one piece will be the impossible thing._ Dean shuddered at his traitorous thoughts, fishing the keys for the Impala out of his jeans. "Let's go check it out."

--

The demon knew that Winchester would figure it out, he had really made it too easy. Smiling to himself, he ran one blood soaked finger over a family picture hanging in the hallway. He had even returned to the place where Dean first sent his soul back to hell, and slaughtered the family of the man he possessed all those years ago. The low drone of the flies buzzing over the decaying bodies made the demon almost gleeful, because he knew it would sicken Winchester when he came.

Yes, this was really just too easy. Without Papa Winchester, the brothers would be quick work, and when this family and the two idiot children John Winchester had left behind were lying in the ground there would be no one to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to do. It was a nice thought indeed.

--

The Impala flew down the thankfully deserted roads, its capable wheels barely noticing the thick layer of snow on the streets. It wouldn't have mattered to the driver if the vehicle was fishtailing all over the road, he was determined to start checking out the few leads that they had as quickly as possible. However, by some small stroke of luck the car managed to safely make it to its destination, a ramshackle farmhouse with a small metal shed in the back. Despite its slightly worn exterior, it looked homely, the kind of place a large family might grow up in. Dean Winchester didn't care about anyone else's family just then, however, he cared about finding his own baby brother. Not even bothering to tell Bobby where he was going, or to go knock on the door to the farmhouse and ask permission, he went directly to the shed, trying to open it. Not deterred by the lock on the door, he pulled out his gun to shoot the damned thing off.

"Dean," Bobby warned, " What if this isn't the right house. You can't just go shooting off locks you id—"

Dean pulled the trigger three times, making the lock fall in two pieces at their feet. He didn't care what Bobby thought just then, because he felt it. Something was different, because the feeling of hesitation he had had before, the instinct that this probably wasn't the right house, was gone, and he could practically feel Sam. He wasn't going to let a simple lock hold him back, not when Sam was cold and hungry and bleeding. He raised his hand to pull the door to the shed open again but Bobby pulled him back suddenly with a low hiss. "Careful," He warned, pointing at a corner of the metal building where what looked to be a smeared, dried bloody handprint was clear for them to see. "you don't know what's in there."

Dean nodded, the lump in his throat preventing him from voicing his agreement, then reached for the door again. He slid it open, the screech of the rusty hinge not deterring him in the least. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and when he did, what he saw made him bolt into the room without hesitation.

"SAMMY!"


End file.
